Tell Me Something Interesting

The willows that blow under the moonlight are not green, but silver. They're spider webs with no spiders, clinging to the clouds on either side. Each night the stars stick to it like dew drops in the morning. The tire swing attached to the maple swings lonely in the wind that blows through a young man's teeth. His skin, dark from the sun, peels from his arms underneath his blanket and flakes into the wool. His eyes are lost from the lives he's lost, and they shudder as the rain starts to poor. He lives without a goal, only a starting line. There is no running in this race, for the distance covered does not depend on pace. A phone rings in the distance, but no one answers it. Maybe it's for him.